illustrated journal

Ci-gît Pickle

Pickle, the dwarf hamster I had bought with Cédric almost three years ago, died the other day. We had a proper burial in the woods by the lakeside, involving a black cardboard box, a tiny white headstone, and candles. Pets are quite mysterious in some ways. They may not live very long, and it gives us the impression that we know much more about life than they do. And yet as we see them grow old and die, we realize what a lifespan entails. In a crucial sense, my hamster is now wiser than me because I don’t have a clue about death. Dear little Pickle, may you rest in peace.